


no need to say goodbye

by raewastaken (IWriteLove)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, FakeHaus, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 12:39:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5829292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWriteLove/pseuds/raewastaken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoole didn't know why he was acting like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no need to say goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> i honest to god wish i could remember how this came to be or why i wrote this but to be PERFECTLY honest i dont remember. at all. i really dont. but its here anyway.

Bruce was the first to walk out.

He spent the night tucked away in the very back bedroom with James, while the others had split between the other two bedrooms. Spoole remembered spending that night curled between Lawrence and Adam, his face pressed half into the pillows and hands idly picking at stray strings on the old shirt Adam wore to bed. And he remembered the next morning, when all of Bruce’s things were gone, every trace of him just vanishing from the apartment. None of his clothes hung up in the closets, all of his shoes were gone from the entryway, the shelves were missing the games he had bought and owned before he ever met any of them. It was such a small thing, Spoole knew, that, really, nothing felt all that different. It had been different enough that it had Joel rearranging cups and dishes in the kitchen pantries three different times, that it had Adam sitting at the bar tilting his favorite shot glass back and forth. It was enough that James’ didn’t leave the bedroom that whole day, and Peake had been the only one he let back there with him. He remembered Lawrence eyeing the bottle of liquor on the coffee table, Bruce’s favorite. Spoole remembered he just tried not to feel anything, to ignore the antsy feeling under his skin that one of the guys were gone, just gone.

Spoole was the one who found the note.

It had been tucked into one of Bruce’s favorite books, which had been confusing because all of his other books were missing. He had picked it up from the shelf, when an envelope fluttered out from between dog eared pages and onto the clear tile below. It had “ _ Guys _ ” written in Bruce’s handwriting on the front, sealed in the back with one of those Valentine Card stickers, from the sheet of them they still had tucked away in a desk somewhere. He had opened it without the others, curiosity taking the better of him like it always did, and in hindsight, he wished he had told them about it. At least before he had opened it. He wished he had someone with him when he did.

Inside was a piece of ripped paper with “ _ No need to say goodbye _ ” written on it in Bruce’s chicken scratch, with the little woven friendship bracelet bearing his name stapled to it. They never took those bracelets off, no matter what. They never had.

James found Spoole crying in the corner hysterically.

They put Bruce’s green friendship bracelet in the bowl in the entryway.

 

* * *

 

Adam left next.

He left his bracelet with a note on the dining room table a week after Bruce. He took the only empty bedroom the night before, so no one had been disturbed when he left the next morning. It was like deja vu, waking up to all his things missing. The Pacific Rim poster hanging in the living room was gone. The collection of Evangelion DVDs weren’t on the shelves. The flannel jacket Spoole loved curling up into on the couch was no longer hanging off the back of the barstool in the kitchen. His note had said the same thing, in equally messy handwriting, and Spoole spotted tear stains wrinkling the paper. The closets felt more empty. Joel paced the living room that morning, not rearranging or touching a thing, his feet wearing a path into the plush rug. James sat in Adam’s favorite armchair, and Spoole caught Peake taking a shot from Adam’s favorite shot glass before his morning cup of coffee. Lawrence was the only one who didn’t seem wrapped up in his own mind, and he sat with Spoole, holding his hand silently. Spoole just wanted to stop feeling numb.

Joel broke hours later, after his pacing left a permanent path in the carpet, and he wandered off into the bedroom Adam had stayed in the night before. James watched him go. Spoole couldn’t bring himself to get up. None of them had the heart to coax him out. None of them could stop his crying. Joel didn’t come out the entire night.

They dropped Adam’s red bracelet into the bowl.

 

* * *

 

James left in the middle of the day.

He didn’t give them the middle of the night bail like Bruce and Adam, to let them work through it in the morning after he’s gone. He packed up his things in the midst of a screaming match with Joel, nine days after Adam left, going to and from rooms to collect his things. Joel followed him, hysterical and begging him not to leave like this, his voice cracking and raw. Spoole sat on the couch, curled up to block them out, with Peake rubbing soothing circles in his back to help, but he could feel the shake of Matt’s hands, and hear the choke of Lawrence’s voice. He covered his ears and ignored the venom Joel and James spat at each other in the heat of the moment.

It climaxed with James slamming his orange bracelet into the bowl on his way out, breaking the ceramic and not bothering to shut the door behind him. Joel stopped in the threshold, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes as he cried, and Spoole choked back a sob and held his knees to himself, with Lawrence pulling him close.

Later that night, Spoole sat with Joel and helped him glue the bowl back together, before they put it back onto the table. They put up six hooks and hung the bracelets there, instead. 

The apartment was void of weights and protein shake mix. The orange shirt that Joel always wore doesn’t hang between Peake’s flannel and Lawrence’s hoodie anymore.

Peake found the note James wrote tucked in the armchair in the corner.

“ _ No need to say goodbye _ ”

He cried into Joel’s arms in bed.

 

* * *

 

Joel tried to make it easy on them.

He didn’t ditch in the middle of the night, didn’t make a dramatic, heartbreaking show, either. He told them the morning of, over coffee and cereal, two weeks after James. He tried to let them down easily, being upfront but gentle, and Spoole wasn’t sure what was worse; being left in the aftermath to pick the pieces, or standing and watching the pieces fall down around him. Peake helped him pack his clothes away, while Lawrence tracked down miscellaneous things laying around. The movie posters hanging in the living room disappear. The fancy drapes over the master bedroom window get taken down. The flower arrangement that’s been sitting on the dining room table since they moved in is put away. The apartment started to feel empty and lifeless.

Joel spent his time with them. He sat and watched anime with Lawrence, happy smiles and bitter jokes between them. He had leaned against the railing of the balcony with Peake as they shared a cigarette and talked, for hours, about whatever they can think about. Joel slow danced with Spoole in the kitchen to their favorite song, and Spoole tried to ignore the pain in his chest each time Joel dipped him and they erupted into laughter. 

He left that night, bags in his hands as hung his purple bracelet on the next hook, and tried to hide his tears when he told Lawrence he didn’t want to hear any goodbyes, when Lawrence started to speak.

Spoole clung to Peake’s shirt the whole night and wished it could be easier.

 

* * *

 

Thirteen days later, Peake left.

He never had much around the apartment, just guns and clothes. They went missing the night before alongside his jeep in the garage and a bag at the back of the closet. He woke up that morning with Spoole sitting on the couch, bags deep under his eyes. He fixed him coffee and sat with him, talking and drinking, brushing against him every so often, before Peake got up for his morning jog. He left his mug on the table, kissed Spoole’s hair, and left out the front door. Spoole watched with tears in his eyes.

Matt never came back. His forest green bracelet hung on the hook next to Joel’s, a tag attached to it, and Spoole knew what it said already, so he threw it out without reading it.

It was just him and Lawrence, then. They sat on the couch watching TV for most of the day. The apartment was silent; no Bruce and James yelling at each other from the back, no Adam and Peake calmly chatting away at the dining room table over tea, no Jeol singing in the shower to the overplayed pop music on the radio. It was just Spoole, and it was just Lawrence, and it was just the TV playing reruns of the same soap opera to fill the void left by the five men that weren’t there anymore.

Spoole broke first, that night after dinner, crying and screaming into Lawrence’s shirt that it wasn’t  _ right _ , that it wasn’t  _ fair _ , that it shouldn’t have been like this at all. Lawrence just rubbed his hair, and let him get the emotions out. By the time Spoole was done, his throat was sandpaper and his head was pounding, and all he could do was whisper pleads that Lawrence wouldn’t leave him, not alone, not like the others. He didn’t note Lawrence’s silence as he carried him to the bedroom. He didn’t think of it when their lips lock and their hands room, and everything became a haze of heat. He didn’t want to think of it between the gasps for air and teeth biting marks on his shoulder and his nails on Lawrence’s back, between the pleasure and the ache in his chest. He didn’t bother thinking about it after, when they’re curled together, breathing the same air and holding the other tight and close.

Lawrence was gone the next morning. The rest of the anime and manga disappeared off the shelves. The gun with the Gurren Lagann sticker wasn’t in its place. The Hatsune Miku figurine didn’t sit on the desk anymore. All Spoole was left with was Lawrence’s favorite shirt and his deep blue bracelet hanging off the last hook.

 

* * *

 

Spoole didn’t know why he was acting like this.

He knew this was coming; they talked about it, planned it, had backups for their backups, for Christ’s sake. It wasn’t a surprise, shouldn’t have been a surprise, them all leaving the apartment and fleeing Los Santos because their luck had to run out and it finally did. Spoole shouldn’t have reacted the way he did when Bruce left, when Adam left, when James and Joel and Peake and Lawrence left. He  _ knew _ it was coming. He helped _ plan _ it.

His chest still ached when he thought of them.

He gathered all he had left of them; Bruce’s favorite book, Adam’s shot glass, James’ Psychonauts plush, Joel’s blanket, Peake’s pillow, Lawrence’s shirt. He set them all down in the living room and slept on the couch, alone. He doesn’t want to lay in the beds.

He kept their bracelets on the hooks in the entryway.

 

* * *

 

It was a year after Bruce left.

Spoole came back to the apartment with his pitiful excuse for dinner, a couple of gas station hot dogs and a large Mountain Dew. The first thing he noticed is that there was a bracelet missing. The second was the music, coming from one of the backrooms Spoole hadn’t stepped a foot into in a year. He set his stuff down on the coffee table, grabbing his switchblade off the bookshelf, and made his way back. The music was coming from a radio, the DJs voice interrupting the ending of some song Spoole didn’t recognize, and he heard the buzz of an electric razor.

He didn’t say a word as he got to the bathroom connected to the bedroom, holding the switchblade tight and resting his hand on the cracked open door. There was a figure moving around inside, dark and moving to the music as it’s shadow was cast across the wall. Spoole thought something like this would happen. He was about to push it open and go for the kill, when the figure started singing and he knew that voice. He  _ knew _ it.

The blade clattered to the floor as Spoole pushed the door open quickly, rushing in and wrapping his arms around Joel with a soft sob that got choked up in his chest. His shaking hands grip Joel’s shirt, and he holds him close, so close.

“J-Joel,” he said quietly, felt Joel’s arms wrapping around him. “O-Oh my god, it’s you…”

“Shit, Sean, I thought no one was here…”

They pulled apart at that, and Spoole laughed at Joel’s half shaven face. Joel joined in, and he felt right again, for the first time since Lawrence left. They put up Joel’s posters and drapes and the flowers, clean the living room and split the hot dogs between them and share the Mountain Dew, and for the first time in a year, Spoole slept in one of the beds.

 

* * *

 

Peake was a week after that.

Spoole ran into him at the convenience store down the street from their apartment. He had been standing in front of the over priced apology cards, holding a cheap bottle of wine and a bouquet of wilted roses. He was wearing a camouflage hoodie Spoole had never seen, but he knew it was Matt by the beard, and the way he worried his lip between his teeth. Spoole approached him, tapping his shoulder as he picked up a card, noting how much he had truly missed him when he jumped and turned quickly. His face shifted into surprise, brown eyes wide.

“Sean, he breathed.

Spoole smiled shyly. “Hey.”

He was pulled into a hug, warm arms around him and that deep-chested rumble of a laugh he missed so much in his ear. Spoole hugged him back, pressing his face into Peake’s shoulder, but he pulled back, taking the card from his hands and looking over it. “Cats?”

“The joke is that we're all dog people.”

Spoole laughed at that, putting it back. “Roses and wine will do fine,” he told him, before they went up to pay, giggling at Peake’s “ _ could have robbed them for the card _ ” comment. They got back to the apartment to the smell of pasta and the sound of Joel cheerily singing in the kitchen, dancing as he cooked. He turned to look at Spoole when he came in, dropping the dish he held with wide eyes and an open mouth. The apartment stood still for a moment, and Matt shifted nervously, before Joel was jumping over the kitchen island to run to him, picking him up and spinning him around. 

“Matt!” He cheered happily, laughing and setting him down. “Oh my God! What are the coincidences! I'm making your favorite meal tonight!” He said with a wide smile, kissing him, before pulling back with a gasp. “Oh- Fuck the bread!”

He rushed back to the kitchen, Matt chuckling and setting his bag down as he pulled his bracelet off the hook. Spoole moved to kiss his cheek. “We're glad you're back.”

None of them complained about the burnt garlic bread at dinner, and the bed felt less empty that night.

 

* * *

 

Adam waltzed in a couple of weeks later.

Spoole didn’t know what to think of his nonchalant attitude toward it all. He had his bag on his back when he opened the apartment door, nodding at Joel and Spoole as they sat dumbfounded on the couch, before he set down his bag and slipped his shoes off. He slipped his bracelet off the hook and onto his wrist, before turning around to look back at them, brows furrowing. “What?”

“You just-” Joel started, pointing at him with the TV remote.

“Came in… Adam what the-”

At the mention of his name, a door slammed in the back. Spoole and Joel turned on the couch to see Peake standing in the threshold of the back hallway, fists clenched at his sides as he stared Adam down. The room was tense for a moment, before he walked over to him silently, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him down for a kiss. “You’re an asshole,” he told him, letting go of the fabric so Adam could stand up straight again. “You’re the biggest asshole.”

Adam didn’t look hurt, or offended. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I know.”

Peake hummed, pulling him back down for another kiss. “Spoole’s making omelettes for dinner,” he told him. Joel’s face cracked into a smile. “And we’re bingeing Pretty Little Liars, if you want to join us.”

Adam grinned. “That sounds fantastic.”

He fell back into step with them easily, effortlessly, sitting between Joel and Spoole, propping his feet up on the coffee table and stealing popcorn from Peake’s bowl. Between scenes and important lines, he added his own brand of commentary that made Joel groan and Spoole choke on his water. That night, over omelettes, Spoole gave him a quick peck between bites, smiling fondly at him.

“I’m glad you’re home.”

 

* * *

 

Bruce’s motorcycle woke Spoole up at midnight.

The others were still sleeping, Joel fast asleep with his long limbs wrapped tight around Peake, and Adam had taken the night alone in another room. He didn’t hear a single noise from the rest of the apartment and he rose from bed, grabbing some shoes and a hoodie, before heading down to the garage, heart thudding in his chest at the prospect of seeing Bruce, who he hadn’t seen longer than anyone else, and they were almost all together again. 

His feet froze on the steps at the voices. He rested a hand on the wall and looked around the corner, stepping back out of view better when he saw Bruce and Adam. Bruce was slipping off that stupid leather jacket James had given him, and Adam had his arms crossed, his stance defensive. “Adam,” Bruce started slowly, setting his jacket over the seat of his bike. “I know you’re upset-”

“I’m more than upset.”

The tone of his voice made Bruce flinch. Spoole shifted to sit on the bottom step, still looking in. “You have every right to be, but-”

“We were all fucked up about it.” Adam’s voice rose. “You just left, in the middle of the night, and you didn’t even leave a note out for us to find.”

“I left it in th-”

“But we didn’t know it was there!” He was yelling. Spoole held his arms close to himself, pulling back from the corner. “If Spoole hadn’t seen that book on the shelf, we would have never had found that note!”

“And what was I supposed to do, throw myself a going away party! We didn’t have the fucking time for explanations, Adam!”

“You should have fucking made time, Bruce, we’re your boyfriends!”

Bruce goes quiet. A beat passed were neither of them say anything, and Spoole felt his heart shatter in his chest, before there’s the muffled squeak of rubber soles on the slick floor. Spoole flinched at the hit he never heard, peeking around the corner at the numbing silence, his chest thudding at the sight of Bruce pulling Adam into a hug, holding him tight and close.

“I know,” Bruce said quietly. “I know…”

“James was so fucking upset…”

“I-Is he back?” 

They pulled apart, and Adam shook his head. “No, not… not yet. Peake told me what happened, though. It was… really messy.”

Bruce sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t think this will be any less messy…”

“I’m sure they all forgive you by now,” Adam told him quietly. “Right, Spoole?”

He could help the indignant squeak that came from his mouth, before he slapped his hands over his mouth, listening to them both laugh. Spoole stood, going around the corner, walking over to them and looking between them. Bruce's bracelet was hanging from his wrist. “I know I forgive you,” he said to Bruce with a smile. He was pulled into a hug, with a kiss pressed into his hair.

Joel tackled him the moment he entered through the door.

 

* * *

 

James’ bracelet went missing one morning.

It was ten days after Bruce came back, and the morning after Joel and Peake spent the whole day cleaning the apartment top to bottom. Adam had noticed the hook had been empty on his way back from getting milk, which sparked a day long panic between the five of them. While Peake and Adam looked between all three bedrooms at least five times over, Joel and Bruce checked the rest of the house, and Spoole slipped out to go check in the garage. He had seen both Adam and Bruce go down there a lot, both of them taking the bracelet with them, probably to think alone since the apartment was always loud between him and Joel. When his search had ended empty, he made his way back up, jumping every other step, before opening the door. 

He was met with the sound of a vase crashing to the floor. “You fucking asshole!” Joel yelled, standing in the center of the living room. A pillow laid against the wall on top of the broken glass. James was standing in front of him, his orange bracelet hanging loosely on his wrist. He didn’t say a word. Joel’s fists clench at his sides. “I c- Oh my g- Just- Fuck!” he settled for, finally, face red and splotchy, his eyes wet and his chest heaving. Adam and Bruce stood to the side, faces unreadable and arms crossed over their chests. Peake stood in the kitchen, making eye contact with Spoole through the chaos. “You made this big fucking statement about you fucking leaving, and then you just sneak in here and try to blend your way back fucking in!”

“Joel-” James started, taking a step forward.

“No, fuck you!” Joel yelled. James took a step back. “You don’t even know how much it fucking hurt!” That’s when the tears start. Adam’s composed facade breaks a little. “It hurt worse than Bruce and Adam leaving while we were sleeping! Because at least with them I didn’t have to listen to them call me a fucking baby for being hurt and upset that the men I love all had to leave the city, and we’d be apart for God knows how fucking long!”

“Joel-”

“What, James?” Joel asked, hands shaking at his sides. “What!”

They both fell silent. Spoole shifted uncomfortably at the door, watching them and worrying his bottom lip, before James stepped forward, pulling the zipper up on Joel’s jeans. “Your fly was down.”

The emotions that shifted onto Joel face made Spoole legitimately worried that Joel was going to swing at him, punch him right across his jaw, or right against his eye, but then it settled on something like mock anger, lips twisting up into a smile. “Are you kidding me?” he asked.

“Well, no, I mean, I didn’t just unzip your pants,” James explained, casually. “I’ll do that later.”

Joel laughed and pushed him. “You fucking dick,” he said with a grin. “God I fucking hate you.”

“Love you, too, babe.” James winked, then turned to Spoole with a smile. “Oh, hey, Spoole! Nice hat!”

Spoole just laughed back.

 

* * *

 

It had been a year and a half since Lawrence left.

Spoole pulled his scarf around his face more, pressing his hands deep into his pockets and trying to protect himself from the cold, Los Santos wind. He sighed, the plastic shopping bag hanging off his wrist as he walked, weaving in and out of the occasional person like he had done all his life. Joel had been so adamant that he go out to get them more cigarettes, even though Adam had a full pack tucked in the trunk of his car, and Spoole ended up slipping a couple of sodas for him and James and a package of popcorn for their movie night. He looked up at the snow, humming and not paying attention to where he was going, before he ran into someone, letting out a soft oof and blushing. “O-Oh sorry,” he said quietly, looking up, and his heart stopped. “L-Lawrence?”

Lawrence turned, dark coat and dark scarf shielding him from the cold, eyes wide behind his glasses and  _ fuck _ , Spoole’s hands shook in his pockets. “Sean,” he breathed softly, pulling his hands from his pockets. “L-Listen, I-”

Spoole didn’t give him a chance to finish. He pulled his hands from his coat, dropping the shopping bag and throwing his arms around Lawrence’s shoulders, holding him tight and closing his eyes when Lawrence wrapped his arms around his waist. “I’m not mad,” he said quietly. He had over a year to deal with how he felt. He couldn’t stay mad like Joel did, angry like Adam. He just didn’t have the heart. “I’m not mad, I… I’m so glad to see you.”

He was pulled closer against Lawrence’s chest, feeling his warmth and his heart beat. “I’m glad to see you, too.”

When they came into the apartment that night, it was a chorus of cheers and shouts from the five others, a tangle of limbs from Joel and James, back pats from Adam and Peake, a long, hard hug from Bruce. And Lawrence smiled the entire time, eyes shining and face red as Joel chattered on about the fish they got as a pet, as Bruce tried to take bags from Lawrence and Adam worked off his winter gear. 

That night, as they all laid together in the master bedroom, Peake curled up against his back and Bruce’s snores from the other side of the bed, Spoole pressed a soft kiss to Lawrence’s lips, smiling. “I love you,” he told him softly.

He got a kiss in return. “I love you, too, Spoole.”

**Author's Note:**

> [follow me on tumblr!](http://seanspooles.co.vu/)


End file.
